


Elevator Talk

by Little_Miss_Numbers



Category: due South
Genre: Bisexual Ray Kowalski, Bombs, Demisexual Benton Fraser, Demisexuality, M/M, Modern AU, Trapped In Elevator, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 14:32:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20175835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Miss_Numbers/pseuds/Little_Miss_Numbers
Summary: Ok so Ray was trapped in an elevator and oh yeah there's a bomb that could go off at any moment, no big deal or anything.





	Elevator Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for a prompt on Pillowfort. But I liked it enough to post here too. Modern AU because I wanted to give them cell phones.

"Ray, there's a bomb." The words echoed through Ray's head. Just a few seconds ago he'd been angry at the power for cutting out while he was in the elevator. Now he had the distinct feeling of having the floor pulled out from under him and he had to lean against the wall rail just to keep upright.

"Ray," Fraser repeated, "Ray, can you hear me."

Ray suddenly remembered Fraser was still on the phone. "Yeah, I'm here Fraser. What bomb, where is the bomb?"

"Where is the elevator?" asked Fraser. 

Ray took his phone and held it up as high as he could so he could see the arrow above the door. "About halfway between floor 28 and 29."

There was a long pause. And Ray was about to check if the signal had dropped when Fraser said, "It's on the door. Ray it's very important you don't try to force the door open."

Ray let out a breath. If Fraser had been any later calling him, forcing that door open is exactly what he would have been doing now. If the elevator's power hadn't cut out--which Ray had now pieced together was likely Fraser's doing too--it would have reached the 29th floor and opened on it's own. 

"Clarkson," said Ray piecing the whole thing together. "He planned the whole thing."

"It would appear so," said Fraser. Then, "I have to call this in."

"Yeah, of course," said Ray. "But you'll be back, right?" He'd meant it to sound casual and even to his own ears could tell he'd failed miserably. 

"I'll be back, Ray. As soon as I can."

He heard the click of the pay phone, or maybe it was some nice clerk or something he'd smiled at and they'd practically begged him to take their phone. And thinking about that wasn't exactly making Ray feel any better. He didn't know why Fraser couldn't just get a flip phone or something, so he could have his own phone like every other modern adult in this city. But if Fraser's convinced he doesn't need something, no force on Earth is ever going to get him to change his mind. 

Ray wanted to kick something. He wanted to run around and hit things and scream until he was too exhausted to do anything anymore. Except of course for the obvious fact that doing something like that would probably get him killed, so instead he carefully sat down against the far wall and tried his best not to move at all.

  
  


It was 20 minutes before Ray's phone rang again, this time from an unknown cell number. Ray was relieved to hear Fraser's voice on the other end. 

"Sergeant Stafford has been kind enough to lend me her phone," he said. 

"Great," Ray hated her already. "That's great."

"She asked me to tell you to try your best to keep still," said Fraser. "And remain calm."

"Oh yeah, two steps ahead of you. I've been doing breathing exercises." It was half true, he was trying to remember a thing he saw in a movie once. He was pretty sure he got it wrong and it didn't seem to be doing anything, but it gave him something to think about that wasn't being an idiot about pretty girl bomb squad officers giving Fraser their phones. It was either that or playing Bejeweled on his phone and he didn't have the patience or battery power for that.

"That's good," said Fraser, sounding genuinely proud of him. Ray heard the voices in the background start to rise, and Fraser said, "I have to go."

"Wait, Fra--" the phone line went dead. "Dammit."

Ray moved to throw his phone before he stopped himself. Instead he took another deep breath and stuck it in his pocket. Fraser would call him back, definitely.

  
  


Ray could hear murmuring now on the other side of the elevator door, and hoped it was his imagination that it sounded tense. It wasn't until they went away that Sergeant Stafford's number finally flashed across Ray's phone again. Ray's hands shook as he swiped the screen.

"The good news is that the bomb does not appear to be on a timer," said Fraser. 

"Good news," Ray repeated. "Yeah, see I don't like that phrasing, because that implies there's also bad news."

Fraser paused and Ray knew he'd guessed right.

Then Fraser started launching into technical details that all went completely over Ray’s head. 

“Look,” said Ray interrupting him, “just be straight with me here, should I be calling my parents or not?”

“You know I couldn’t possibly make a deci--”

“Fraser,” Ray interrupted, annoyed.

“Sergeant Stafford estimated a 50% chance the bomb could be disarmed without going off.”

Ray blew out a puff of air. 50%, flip of a coin, pretty much. Ray was tempted to find a quarter in his pocket and flip it a couple times, but it was so dark it was pointless. Why didn't he have an app for that?

“Ray? Can you hear me?”

“I’m still here,” said Ray. 

“Sergeant Stafford recommends remaining as still as you can and keeping calm,” Ray recognized the tone he was using, like Ray was some vic that needed his hand held and couldn't be expected to remember the instructions he'd gotten just a few minutes ago. “The upper floors of the hotel have been evacuated, I am standing near the elevators doors with the rest of the bomb squad unit on floor 25.”

“OK,” Ray recognized the technique. Keep the vic engaged, keep them from getting too much in their own head. Ray didn’t think it was working.

“The robot is on floor 29, with Sargent Stafford controlling it from here. It should disarm the bomb, at which point it will be placed in a containment box and we can open the elevator and get you out.”

“That’s it, huh?” said Ray, “sounds simple enough.” Textbook, no big deal. Just your average Tuesday. “How long is it going to take?”

“Not long,” said Fraser. “10 minutes, 20 at the most.”

Ray nodded, even though nobody could see him. The hand that wasn’t holding his phone was grabbing and releasing the same bunch of fabric over and over again. That was OK though because Fraser couldn’t see that either. 20 minutes, he repeated in his head. In 20 minutes he’d either be safe or dead. No big deal.

"You know it's funny, I always thought in a situation like this I'd be thinking about Stella," said Ray. 

He took another long deep breath. His thoughts were all over the place suddenly, both all about Stella and not really about her at all. 

They'd been dating for 5 years when Ray figured out he was bi for the first time. He remembered being home alone because Stella was working late on some intern thing for some big law firm, and just laying there on their shitty apartment bed watching the ceiling fan circle, making a clicky noise as it went. 

And all these things just clicked. Moments and relationships and what was in retrospect obvious celebrity crushes. _Click click click_. Like it was obvious, like it was natural, and Ray should have spotted it years ago. And Ray just watched the ceiling fan go around and around, eyes focused on a small dirty patch of dust at the end of one of the blades and just thought, 'huh'.

And that was Ray's first regret, because he'd thought at the time it didn't matter. That him and Stella were going to be together forever, so who cares if he'd caught the occasional feelings for guys in the past. Except it did matter, because this was a part of him, part of who he was. And here he was divorced and undercover and no idea what to do with all these feelings he suddenly had.

"That's understandable, Ray," said Fraser. "You were together a long time."

"No see, that's what I'm saying," said Ray. "I thought I would have regrets but I don't. I mean I lost her, it sucks. But--I dunno, sometimes you do everything you can, do everything right, and things still don't work out. Sometimes you just gotta let something go."

Ray wasn't sure exactly when it was he'd finally let Stella go, just that it had been gradual. But he knew why and it was regret number 2.

"That's very wise," said Fraser.

"What's going on out there? It's been quiet for a while," said Ray. Because even knowing he might be on his last 20 minutes here, he was still going to avoid this apparently. 

"Sergeant Stafford has the robot set up on the 29th floor, it is approaching the bomb," said Fraser calmly. Which only made Ray's skin itch more. "Do you want me to--"

"No," said Ray interrupting. Not wanting to give Fraser a chance to say it in that calm tone of his. "Tell me--tell me when it's done. When it's all over."

"OK," said Fraser. 

Ray tried not to think about that robot approaching, and the way it made his stomach squirm when he thought OK he still had a bit of time. He took another breath. Tried that stupid breathing exercise again but couldn't remember if you breathed through your mouth and out your nose or the other way around. 

The silence stretched. It would have been easy, Ray thought, to just talk about whatever. That it wouldn't take much to get Fraser talking about old Inuit legends or some weird story from his childhood about swinging wolverines to pass the time.

"Frase?" 

"I'm still here," said Fraser.

"Yeah, so I was thinking," said Ray, speaking quickly before he could think better of it, "maybe if I don't get blown to bits in the next few minutes if maybe you wanted to go out sometime. Do something together?"

Fraser went quiet which made Ray's stomach squirm even more. 

"Go out?" asked Fraser.

"Yeah," said Ray, "We could go dancing, wine, I know this great Italian bistro. I mean if you want," he added quickly. "Don't feel like you should agree just because there's a chance I might get blown up here. And I know just because never seem all that interested in girls doesn't necessarily mean you're any more interested in guys. And even if you were, that doesn't mean--" Ray stopped talking when he noticed he was babbling. He'd meant to ask for a date, not interrogate him on whatever the hell is orientation was.

Except when Ray forced himself to stop talking Fraser didn't say anything. Low murmuring voices from the bomb squad told him the signal didn't cut out at least. He could hear another low buzz coming from the top of the elevator door he realised must be the robot, which didn't make him feel a whole lot better.

"I uh...I have on occasion been attracted to both men and women," said Fraser finally. "It doesn't happen very often."

"Yeah? How often are we talking about here?" 

"Three times," said Fraser. 

Ray frowned into the dark elevator. "Three times what?" he asked. "Three times a year? A month?"

"Three times, Ray," Fraser repeated. "I have experienced attraction to someone else exactly three times."

"Oh," said Ray, and he had to admit that made a certain amount of sense. Because while Fraser never looked very comfortable with all the gorgeous women who through themselves at him daily, he never seemed to notice the attractive men with the bright white smiles who's subtle attempts to get in with him seemed to go completely unnoticed either. And OK yeah Ray could admit this answered a lot of things about Fraser. It didn't mean it was the answer he was hoping for. 

"That's uh...no, that's cool, that's great." said Ray awkwardly. High up the low buzz of the robot whirred unevenly and Ray wondered if the bomb went off if he'd even know it. He wasn't sure which he wanted to think about less, that or the conversation he was currently having. "You never said anything."

"You never asked," said Fraser simply.

"Yeah well, I mean, it takes all kinds in this world, right?" said Ray. And he was somewhat aware he was babbling, but he'd just been rejected and was possibly seconds from being blown up, so he was allowed to babble a little. 

"Ray," said Fraser. 

"And I respect that, I do," said Ray raising his voice a bit to drown out the hum of the robot above. "And I want you to know this won't--"

"Ray," Fraser interrupted. "I'm not sure why you're assuming you're not one of the three people I was referring to."

"Ray?" asked Fraser after a long pause. "Are you still there?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here Frase. Just trying to process everything."

"That's good," said Fraser calmly like Ray's entire life hadn't taken so many twists and turns in a such a short time he was feeling dizzy. "The bomb's been disarmed," he said this like he was discussing what he was getting for breakfast, "and the rescue team is on their way to remove the bomb and get you out. Sargent Stafford is asking me for her phone back."

"No, don't you--"

"I'll see you in a few minutes, Ray."

The phone line went dead. And it was only knowing just because a bomb was disarmed didn't mean it still couldn't go that kept him still while the rescue workers worked above him to get him out safely.

When Ray was pulled out of the elevator, awkwardly stuck between two floors, it was with a sense of relief that he thought he was probably going to stick to stairs for the foreseeable future.

Fraser was standing in amongst the rescue team, standing out like a sore thumb with all his red surge and giant hat, and grinning like a loon when he saw Ray step out. 

There was a woman who'd been talking to him, mid 30's, pretty of course, probably Stafford. "Uh, thanks for getting me out of there," he told her holding out a hand. Because you could be gracious and jealous at the same time. 

"We're just doing our job, Mr Vecchio," she said.

"And you," said Ray rounding on Fraser, "hanging up on me how many times?"

Fraser's smile never faltered. "I'm glad you're safe, Ray."

Ray opened his mouth to respond, except how to do stay mad in the face of such overwhelming niceness? He had a sudden urge to kiss the grin off Fraser's face but he wasn't feeling that bold yet. Instead he grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away from the rescue team still milling around, probably discussing lunch plans. 

"We have a lot to talk about," said Ray, heading for the stairs. 

"Yes, of course," Fraser agreed solemnly.

"But first we are celebrating my continuing existence by going to that Italian Bistro for dinner, and we are both going to dress up and have a nice night."

He looked up at Fraser who only grinned wider at the suggestion. "Yes, I think that's a fine idea, Ray."

  
  



End file.
